He's All My Exercise, My Mirth, My

I Pardon Him, As God Shall Pardon Me.

Wisdom Cries Out In The Streets, And No Man Regards It.

Good Company, Good Wine, Good Welcome, Can Make Good People.

Ideas Are The Very Coinage Of Your Brain.

Devoutly To Be Wish'd. To Die, To Sleep; To Sleep, Perchance To Dream—for In That Sleep Of Death What Dreams May Come,when We Have Shuffled Off This Mortal Coil, Must Give Us Pause, There's The Respect, That Makes Calamity Of So Long Life